


Desecration

by Mikanis (Coagvla)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dominance, Fingerfucking, Gratuitous Smut, Hannibal is Hannibal, Hold Them Down, I Tried, M/M, Orders, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Plot? What?, Sexy! Will, Size Kink, Slash, Smut, Someone Help Will Graham, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Top Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 11:36:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6115262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coagvla/pseuds/Mikanis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So… I was wondering...”</p><p>Hannibal turned to look at him, and stopped, noting the banked heat in his expression. The invitation. The request, rather, because he seemed to be struggling with the invitation. He stepped closer, a trace of a smirk on his features. “Wondering how, if sex is part of our dynamic now, does one broach the topic?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desecration

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies, I needed to get this out of my system. It was interfering with the other one. - -'
> 
> I stopped here because I refuse to let my smut fic become longer than my *actual fic*. I insist. Damn it.

“So…”Will crossed his arms over his robe, studying the new doctor’s profile. There had been an incredibly, long, hot, embarrassing shower this morning, but the tankless water heater made sure that he had as much time as he needed to work up his nerve. Hannibal lifted an eyebrow expectantly, pouring the tea and returning the kettle to the warmer. Will licked his lips, searching for words and finding nothing accessible, or sensible. “I was wondering…”  
Hannibal turned to look at him, and stopped, noting the banked heat in his expression. The invitation. The request, rather, because he seemed to be struggling with the invitation. He stepped closer and handed Will a cup, a trace of a smirk on his features. "Wondering how, if sex is part of our dynamic, does one broach the topic?”  
Fuck. Will hated being so obvious, but wasn’t sure how else to get what he wanted. The first time Hannibal had touched him, he’d barely lasted ten minutes, and he swore he was going to do better the next. Next was now. He ignored the tea, taking both cups and setting them aside in favor of pulling the doctor against his chest and pressing their lips together. It was chaste, but coaxing, his fists wrapping in the front of Hannibal’s shirt to hold him there for the attention. He was warm, kissing again, again, insistent, parting his lips slightly, the soft brush of his tongue finally voicing the invitation that he’d been chewing on all morning. Come, touch, please.  
Hannibal’s hands found his hips as he answered, working Will’s mouth open to take as he pleased, thrilled to his bones when it earned him a contented sigh. Will was incredibly easy to kiss, and better yet, very sensitive. His thumbs traced the line of his hips, and the fold of the robe fell open. Never one to miss an opportunity, he slipped a hand inside, seeking skin.  
And found a lot of it. He’d expected the usual boxers and t-shirt under the terrycloth and instead found a long line of smooth, warm flesh. Will protested when Hannibal pulled back in surprise, pushing the top fold away completely. A trail of bare skin from his collarbone, over his chest, to his side, his bare hip and the top of his thigh…Hannibal’s other hand tightened bluntly, and the second fold threatened to give and destroy what remained of his modesty. He met Will’s eyes again, and there was something playful in his almost-grin, despite being appropriately flushed. “….You would desecrate my kitchen.”  
“Yes.” Will answered with a breathless smile, bending the exposed leg slightly, as though threatening him with full nudity. Hannibal almost dared him, swallowing thickly. He ran his fingers up, just under the edge of the fabric, and an appreciative shiver rewarded him, Will muttering, “I want…more, this time, Hannibal.”  
The doctor met his eyes, and Will thought he could die in the heat of them, his hands smoothing over the planes of his chest to pull him closer by the front of his slacks. “I want us. I want you, this time.”  
“That—,“ Hannibal bit off as their hips pressed together, Will lowering his eyes, his mouth, to the line of his throat. “Takes…time for me. Effort.”  
“Show me. I’m invested.” Will answered quietly, his heart picking up steadily at the feel of him pressed down the length of his thigh. The robe was working miracles; he didn’t think he could arouse the man this quickly, but Hannibal seemed to enjoy his skin, and giving him skin was easy. Giving him everything else would become easy, if he could press Hannibal into taking it.  
Show him, Hannibal’s exhale was sharp, not a laugh, not a protest, but it was hard for a man like him to reach orgasm, much less with another person, and he wasn’t sure Will understood what an undertaking he was signing up for. His mind was already racing ahead, imagining how hot the skin under his hand would become, how red when he—fuck. Fuck, he would try.  
Yes, Will felt him cave, but his victory was short lived because Hannibal caved like hydrogen. The slow burn of his look was gone, the gentleness in his touch suddenly founded on steel. Hannibal banished the other side of the robe from his view, and Will’s heart skipped a beat at the rush of air. The hard lines of their chests met, thin linen trapped between them, and Will shied his hips too late, and not far enough, because Hannibal pressed him to the line of the counter and he forgot how to work buttons. Forgot how to work his fingers. Yes, God, Hannibal was large enough to be trapped by a pants leg, and Will forced the apprehension that caused him to the back of his mind. He knew Hannibal would make him enjoy himself, there wouldn’t be time to negotiate. He lavished the doctor’s throat with attention, pressing against his palm against the doctor’s length and stroking insistently, his other hand trying so hard to open the buttons of his shirt and reach the warmth underneath the clothes. Hannibal made a low sound at the touch, hitching his grip slightly, and Will helped seat himself on the counter, effectively putting Hannibal’s cock out of reach and providing some brakes for the encounter.  
His robe all but disappeared as Hannibal snatched it down his arms and let it spread behind him. He’d expected Will to lie back and accept his pleasure at Hannibal’s lead, but the doctor was surprised when he instead buried his hands in his hair and kept kissing him. Denied his view, Hannibal explored by touch instead, hands raking over the smooth skin of his back, the short, raised scar from his days as a cop, the stark edges of his shoulder blades. Will was muttering in his ear as he pulled his shirt off and let it drop to the floor, words that Hannibal couldn’t hear, and they trailed off into a soft groan when the doctor put his nails lightly at the top of his back and dragged them down. The beautiful arch exposed his throat, and Hannibal was ever an opportunist, pressing a hot mouth to the vein, the edge of his teeth to make him writhe. He reached away to the small bowl at the side of the hot range and Will seized like a live wire when his hand returned to wrap loosely around his cock.  
Trapped against hot skin was something strange, a wax like substance, but it smoothed over his skin as it warmed and Will’s knees came together at the man’s sides, that was so good…so hot, and slick, fuck. Coconut oil was scentless, flavorless, warmed immediately, it was perfect. Hannibal stroked him languidly, hovering just under chin and riding his every sigh with absolute enthrallment. Will had no idea how much restraint it took not to turn him over there, but he refused to be impatient. The other hand took over the motion, and Hannibal relished the way both fists tightened in his hair on every up stroke, the younger man’s breath already ragged. He reached for the bowl again and slicked his fingers, returning once warmed to cup Will’s sack briefly, and the ventured lower. He was shaved, and immaculate, and Hannibal groaned in appreciation, burying his face in Will’s shoulder as he slipped inside.  
“ _Fuck_.” Will straightened immediately, one hand dropping to Hannibal’s shoulders as he tensed, because he’d been at this all morning trying to prepare himself, understand what it was about it that drove people crazy but…that wasn’t his hand, that wasn’t his touch, and he might understand now, because that intimate, invasive. His breath caught, but he nodded his encouragement, his hips twitching forward into the strokes without his consent. He bit his lip, chewed it to keep sounds down, but he understood how futile that was going to be later…these were only fingers, and he knew how much of Hannibal there was to take. Thinking about it made him tense, and Hannibal’s fist adjusted, sped up just slightly, and that was going to be the death of him. He was arching again, pulling away as though to run, but Hannibal pressed against his knees, and left him nowhere to go. Falling back on an elbow, he met his eyes, a hand coming to grip his wrist because, fuck, he’d meant it, “ _Hannibal_...wait…both of….fuck, both of us, Hannibal, _slow down_ —“  
And Hannibal realized abruptly that he didn’t take orders very well from a mouth so red from abuse. Will’s voice was so dark, glowing at the edges like a hot ember. He curled his fingers just once, sharply, and the violent spasm rolling through those trim hips was immensely gratifying. Will’s voice cut off, died in his chest without warning, and his eyes widened. Hannibal did it again, asking bluntly, “There, Will?”  
“ _Ngha-AH_ , Fuck!” came the answer, and the doctor grinned wickedly, angling his wrist to press deeper as he worked another finger against that spot, brushing circles over it. Will panicked. Will died, his grip on Hannibal’s wrist becoming vice-like as he pushed away, back, frantically, but Hannibal didn’t let him. He clapped a hand over his mouth, a low whine trapped beneath it as those fingers savaged his prostate and he thought he might scream when the doctor’s other hand left his cock to rip his away and just..fuck… _fuck_ , he was talking now. “Hannibal, _Hannibal wait_ , wait, wait, please, just let me… _please_ , let’s…oh, _fuck_ , you can’t—“  
He could, but the sound of his voice made his own neglected cock twitch. “You have to be ready for me.”  
Will nodded, trying his best not to buck, but the doctor was slowing the touch and he wished his heart would do the same. His hands shook, both wrapped around the man’s forearm in unfounded protest, and he felt himself shaking, felt the slow ache of the deeper touch and understood now that he hadn’t practiced enough. Not with intent. This was vastly different from his time in the shower. He focused on calming down, forcing each breath to be deeper than the last, all the while reveling in the heat of those eyes on his skin. He sat up after a minute, and kissed him, full and slow. Hannibal’s answer was fierce, reminding him that he’d only just begun the process of arousal. Will groaned against his tongue and teeth, a hand venturing to his belt only to be stopped by an iron grip. “Go.”  
Will edged forward off the counter, leaving the robe there and turning his back on the man was suddenly the hardest thing he’d ever done. Hannibal said ‘go’, but Will heard ‘run’. He paused in the doorway just long enough to see the older man reach for his belt and take a step forwards, and yes, fuck, yes, it’d worked, they were doing this. He crossed the dining room completely naked, leaving the warmth of the light behind as he headed for the stairs.  
The shadows hitting those shoulders as Will disappeared into the dark made his mouth water. There were faint marks from his nails, but he needed this moment to compose himself before he did something stupid. Like run him down. He was following him. He could feel his heart beating dully against his thigh, every second of his concentration highlighting how badly he needed to be touched. The physical was easy; it was his mind that needed coaxing…though, not much, when Will paused to look back at him before disappearing around the corner. That glance was equal parts challenge and fear. And Hannibal was coming, his belt slipping through the loops. He tossed it clatter on the dining room table as he passed it and heard Will’s breath catch ahead of him. Giving chase.  
Hannibal rounded the corner and Will knew he’d made a mistake waiting for him. He met his eyes across the living room, one foot on the bottom step, because he just wanted to make sure that—  
Hannibal was impossibly quick. His hands seemed larger than they had a moment ago in the kitchen, closing tightly around his upper arms and shoving him upwards. Will stumbled four, five steps, and they closed on him again, at his hips this time, and turned him over bodily, and that…was not something that happened to Will Graham very often, because he was not a small person. Hannibal was on him barely a second later, holding his mouth open as he just…took. Will tried to kiss him, but this didn’t feel like a kiss, his tongue deep and his teeth taunting at every opportunity. He wanted to bite, but Hannibal never gave him the chance, abandoning his mouth to leave him gasping as he worked down the line of his throat with sharp nips and hot, open kisses. The man was very much between his legs, and Will almost growled in frustration when he realized that he was still in his slacks. In a heartbeat, in a breath, one hand closed around the back of his knee and pressed it up, opening him gracelessly for the hard line of Hannibal’s cock to rest against his ass. It was a threat, it was a demand. Will quieted, stilled, but the other did not, rocking against him. He was heavy, and the edges of the steps dug into Will’s shoulders, his back, his neck. He had nowhere to run this time, and Hannibal crowded him, heat rolling between them in waves. Will heard himself cursing, managed to get his nails into Hannibal’s back and the older man’s head went back as he let them bite as harshly as he could. He pulled away, folded under those beautiful lines of pain, and his hips rolled forward again, and Will lost his breath, staring, open beneath him.  
He wanted to break the light above them, this Hannibal belonged only in the shadow. It was sunlight however, and thus slightly out of his power. He sat up on the steps and did it again from the back of his neck to the top of the fabric, not quite in the man’s lap and he heard a low sound between them as Hannibal shivered. His hands were everywhere, smoothing over his thighs, up his back, into Will’s hair—  
“ _Ah_ -f-fuck, Hannibal—“Fists, both, and Will’s bones went to ash. He was still staring, but the skin he wanted to taste was just out of reach, and Hannibal leaned back to regain himself, put his foot on a step below them. Will immediately grabbed the front of his slacks pulling him back, closer, and nearly tore the button off in his effort to get them open.  
Hannibal’s eyes closed, confident he was becoming a being of pure electricity, and that was before Will got the fabric to clear his hips and erection. Suddenly bared, he rubbed the black curls in his grip, curious at Will’s reaction to seeing him for the first time. Something awed, something like worship, and that was just fine with Hannibal. Will met his eyes briefly, and his hand reached between his legs, warm fingers curling around the hot length of him. Hannibal inhaled slowly through the first tentative strokes, pulling gently at the hair in his grip, and then not so gently as Will moved between his legs. He was just sitting on the lower step, but the difference was shocking, and Hannibal began to withdraw before that hand tipped his cock up and the head disappeared into Will’s mouth.  
He tasted rich. Curiosity was his mortal enemy and best friend, because Hannibal folded over him, barely catching himself on his elbows as Will laved his tongue over the tip without remorse. He felt the man’s thighs tense, his other hand snaking around the small of his back to hold him still while he lavished attention on the amount of Hannibal that fit in his mouth. More than he’d expected, to his own credit, withdrawing with a soft sound and thrilled when Hannibal echoed it, pressing back in. One of the doctor’s fists still remained in his hair, a vague threat in its presence, but Will didn’t balk, his mouth and hand beginning to move in tandem. He’d been warned this took effort. He’d meant it when he said he was invested. His mouth was absolutely perfect. He spared no touch of soft heat, allowed only enough air to let him move, and Hannibal could feel him struggling to keep his throat open. It would take practice. It would take time, it would take more patience than Hannibal currently had. Every moment was hellish, tauntingly sweet, with Will working to worship him, and Hannibal struggling to be worshipped. Hannibal’s breath was somewhat erratic, his heart as well, but it wasn’t until his hands began to _shake_ that he called it off, grinding out lowly, “Will.”  
Will pulled back slowly, giving every centimeter his tongue and lips and teeth, panting as he looked up to wait.  
Too much. Far too much, and likely just enough. Hannibal released him and stood, pulling him to his feet. “Go to my bed.”  
And…yes…yes, Will could do that. Certainly. He turned on heel and fled, up the stairs and to the left, ears straining to listen for the end of his head start. One, two, three thundering steps and then silence as he cleared the door. Hannibal bounding up the steps and short, silent, tense steps right behind him. He felt the heat of him before the man actually pressed to his back, and he’d almost made it the bed, but teeth in his shoulder and those hands on his hips told him almost wasn’t fast enough.  
He was lifted, again, swallowing hard, tasting Hannibal and now Hannibal’s sheets, because he hadn’t given him time to make his tea and come back to dress the bed. The sun was still rising, but luckily Hannibal’s room faced the north, and the gray light was more than perfect to accommodate his sudden desire to hide. He’d been perfectly bold on the stairs, but now, Hannibal’s chest was a burning line down his back, his mouth a hot reality on his shoulders, and this would hurt.  
But perfectly. Hannibal swore it, unknowingly following his line of thought as he pressed him to the bed, his cock resting between his thighs. He reached to the night stand and found his small supply of lube before he sat up, knowing that the faster this process was handled, the more Will could relax and enjoy himself and the more likely Hannibal was to ride his high all the way to the end, like Will wanted. Not thinking was key, and he didn’t need to really, to open the bottle and… fuck, the stroke of his hand down the length of his cock was a welcome pressure. He used exactly as much as he needed and then slid two of his fingers between and inside.  
“ _Nah_ , fucking….yes.” Will yelped, tilting his hips up for the attention, trying to clarify that he wasn’t protesting, he just… _needed_ that. Yes, this had become a need, in an alarmingly short amount of time. He adjusted to the stretch almost immediately, and Hannibal’s quick strokes seemed an approval of sorts, but soon he was working a third in, and that _ached_. His hand slid down the line of Will’s back, not soothing exactly, simply correcting his form, and Hannibal’s knees crowded his legs together. When Will relaxed, he let his nails bite, and adjusted his angle slightly to reach just… _there_.  
Again, his chest seized so tightly with pleasure that he couldn’t cry out. Will couldn’t abide just lying there and shaking, however, and his hips, luckily, had a mind of their own. They ran forward, into the mattress, dragging his closed thighs down Hannibal’s length in the process, and—fuck, fuck, again, and this time he did cry out, “ _Hann—Hannibal_ , fucking hell, that’s…”  
“Yes?” Again, harder.  
“ _Perfect_.” Harder, and an edge of pain rode that last sound, his hand reaching to grip that wrist and slow it. The doctor snarled at his back, trapping it as he withdrew his fingers and pulled his hips backwards, his cock sliding slowly into place against him, but not breaching yet. Will’s mind short-circuited for a minute, and he’d forgotten what he wanted, forgotten that his jaw was aching, testing the man’s grip lightly, chewing his lips to keep from begging, from working himself backwards.  
Hannibal loved being called perfect. His smirk was slow, wicked to a fault, as he eased forward until the head of him was sheathed. It was tight. It hurt, he could tell, but Will had nowhere to go, again, trapped between his legs. In a slow rocking motion, Hannibal worked him open in ways his fingers couldn’t manage. There were several pauses, several bitten-off cries and strained moments of waiting. He pushed, and Will writhed, and Hannibal held him there, unrelenting. Making each new incursion a stroke kept the focus from exactly how much of him there was to take. There was a quarter left when Will threw himself upwards, fighting Hannibal’s grip in earnest. “Fuck,I I can't, _I can’t_ , that’s too much, Hannibal, it’s too much.”  
Hannibal bit his lip, pulling out and sliding in directly against his prostate, “Yes?”  
Will had forgotten. Every stroke had been a reset on his intentions, on his desire, yes, fuck _yes_ , this was too much. But in that second, he was thrown somewhere far beyond his own comprehension, someplace white hot and blinding. He froze, shaking, and then collapsed with a whimper, riding it out, and realized…that Hannibal was pulling back again. That his hand was reaching into Will’s hair again. That…that _that_ wasn’t even the orgasm.  
_Fuck._  
Fuck fuck fuck, “FUCK, Hannibal!” He bucked, too late, too loud, too gone in the sensation, the full withdrawal and return, every inch a battle and a hard-won victory. That fist in his hair wouldn’t let him hide in the sheets, holding his chin up until his free hand went to help support his weight, because he was screaming now, wasn’t he? Hannibal pulled back, and forth, and back, and this last pass was surely the end of him, but instead, he was just barely aware of Hannibal’s hips brushing his ass, completely sheathed.  
And Hannibal rode him like that, encouraging with quiet, wicked questions, “Harder now?”  
“Y-yes, Hannibal, fuck…just…. _fuckyeslikethat_ —“ He heard himself, but remained separate, somehow, words coming from the coil of pleasure in his stomach that he was one hundred percent sure actually originated in an alternative universe and only overlapped for the sake of pornographic beauty. The doctor moved, and the whole world moved, Will’s body desperately trying to adjust to having his prostate massaged by the three inches Hannibal had to overshoot his target. He was panting, his eyes glassy before Hannibal’s hips began a short snapping motion, the sound of his skin striking becoming audible. He heard the doctor groan behind him, and he was so loud, so desperate in comparison that it wasn’t fair. “ _Ngh, ngh, nah-hahn-AH_ , fuck, _fuck_ , yes, fuck, yes, M’so… _Hannibal_ , God, wait—“  
Will tried to warn him that he was close, but he was too far gone, “Hnngh-nah, wait, _Wait, I can’t, m’comingI’mcomingpleasedon’t_ -Hannibal-- _Hannibal!_ ”  
Hannibal groaned, delighted how broken his name sounded, at the sudden clench around his length, ignoring the wince of pain in his shoulders as he let Will fall to the bed. He lingered there, completely sheathed, hands stroking down the man’s twitching back as he rode his orgasm out. Will reached for the headboard weakly, picking himself up and muttering drunkly, “ _Fuck_ , I meant...for us to…”  
“Do not apologize for something so lovely.” He chuckled, jutting sharply into the younger man’s body, and Will yelped in surprise, hands flying to hold his hips still. Hannibal met his eyes with a wicked grin, hands settling on his shaking hips. “You’ll just have to come twice.”

**Author's Note:**

> And he will, another day. Excuse me while I attempt to go back to writing loaded conversation. Cheers!


End file.
